Once you have cancer, albeit a “curable” one, they say you live with the fear all your life. The way you cope with the fear has a lot to do with the quality of your life, whether “cured” or “not.” Either way, a survivor can’t define themselves, and I certainly don’t, on the events of the cancer diagnosis, treatment and ongoing recovery.
Reminds me a lot of what I hear about addiction. An alcoholic is “recovering.” A drug user is “recovering.” Hey, even a Catholic is “recovering.” It is ongoing, and lifelong, and I can finally understand this.
Each time my mammogram rolls around, which is now, my throat closes up, my heart beats, and even my blood sugar rises a degree. I am not good at anticipation; not for the bad things, anyway. So I need all the help from the core of my being, from my strength both physical and spiritual, to get me through the days ahead. Again, it is akin to a prisoner awaiting sentencing. Any change in my condition, new cancer, metastasis, infection, bump lump etc., throws my entire life awry.
There is no planning for this. A cut requires recovery. A burn requires therapy. A break or sprain requires time to heal. But the mind goes on hurting, way past when the physical scars close up.
I know there’s nothing wrong with me. Aside from over-exercise at the gym causing aches in the morning. There is nothing wrong.
I will cope by living in the moment. There is nothing I can do about what is to come, except be.
And that is the most difficult thing of all.